


far away from fair

by magnificentbirb



Series: bury the hatchet: sequelae [1]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Background Relationships, Gen, Violence, Violent Thoughts, Yunho Is... Complicated, and traumatized
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:26:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23813023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnificentbirb/pseuds/magnificentbirb
Summary: Hongjoong’s new apprentice is sleeping in Wooyoung’s bed.And it would be so easy to kill him.Yunho comes home.
Relationships: Choi San & Jeong Yunho, Jeong Yunho & Kim Hongjoong
Series: bury the hatchet: sequelae [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1715710
Comments: 32
Kudos: 182





	far away from fair

**Author's Note:**

> this is... not very fluffy.
> 
> oops?
> 
> set in the same universe as [bury the hatchet (or bury your friend right now)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22342072).
> 
> *
> 
> title from “no time to die” by billie eilish, my eternal vampire yunho song because seriously the lyrics are weirdly perfectly fitting, i maybe died a little.

Hongjoong’s new apprentice is sleeping in Wooyoung’s bed.

Yunho watches him, hidden by early morning shadows. The young hunter is lying on his back, his head turned away from Yunho, one arm clutching a pillow to his chest, the other outflung against the sheets, fingers curled against his palm. Yunho can hear his heartbeat, thrumming steadily in his chest. He can hear the rush of blood in his veins, the gentle rhythm of his sleeping breaths. He is so _alive_. 

And it would be so easy to kill him.

Yunho imagines it, just for a moment. He imagines the way his hand could tighten, vice-like, around the young man’s throat, crushing his trachea as easily as crumpling paper. He imagines his nails slicing through the pale, delicate skin of the hunter’s neck, the way the warm, sweet-smelling blood would gush from the wound, soaking Yunho’s hands, Wooyoung’s sheets, the hunter’s soft hair and skin. He imagines the horror in the man’s pretty eyes as he bleeds out, imagines the soft sounds of him choking on his own blood, drowning in it, helpless, fragile, terrified. He imagines sinking his fangs into the hunter’s throat and taking deep drags of hot blood, drinking and drinking until the man is shuddering in his grasp, skin pallid, breath gone, eyes dull and lifeless.

It would be so easy to kill him.

Yunho doesn’t even realize how close he is to the bed, hovering over the hunter’s slumbering form, until the door opens behind him, and he jolts back a few steps as Wooyoung slips into the room.

“Yunho?” Wooyoung’s voice is soft, presumably to keep from waking his… lover? Partner? Yunho doesn’t even know what they officially are to each other. “What’re you doing here?” 

“I was looking for you.” Yunho matches Wooyoung’s quiet tone, which makes Wooyoung smile slightly. Yunho feels a tiny pinch of guilt in his gut; he forces himself not to look at the sleeping hunter.

“Sani’s still asleep?” Wooyoung’s eyes are impossibly warm as they settle on the hunter lying cozy in his sheets. He is so obviously smitten that Yunho finds himself needing to look away, glancing out the window at the night sky.

“Seems so.”

“Have you two properly met yet?” Wooyoung asks.

Yunho’s eyes flick to Wooyoung’s face, but the quick flash of irritation that flares in his chest at that question dies as soon as he meets Wooyoung’s wide, guileless eyes. It would be so much easier if Yunho were able to ever be mad at Wooyoung, but alas.

“No,” Yunho says, keeping his voice carefully even. He finally glances down at the hunter again.

_Sani._

“You’ll need to introduce me once he’s awake,” Yunho says.

“Definitely.” Wooyoung steps past Yunho to the bedside. He leans down and presses a gentle kiss to his hunter’s forehead, so light that the mortal doesn’t even twitch. “You’ll like him, I think.” Wooyoung beams up at Yunho. “Seonghwa-hyung does.”

“You love him.” 

Wooyoung’s smile falters slightly, and he suddenly looks a bit anxious, like a child who’s been caught sneaking out of their room past curfew.

“We, ah. We haven’t really gotten to that point yet,” he says, glancing down at the hunter.

“But you do love him.”

Wooyoung presses his lips together. He brushes a gentle hand over the hunter’s dark hair. 

“... I think so,” he says at last, barely more than a whisper.

Yunho closes his eyes and turns away, heading for the door. He snuffs out every image of violence he entertained, however briefly. He swore to leave that part of him behind, when he returned. He can smother it now.

_For Wooyoung._

“Take care of him,” he says as he steps out the door, and he misses Wooyoung’s response as he pulls the door shut quietly behind him.

*

Seonghwa is unpacking groceries.

Yunho watches him over the edge of his book. Seonghwa is graceful, methodical, in all of his actions, including this one. It’s clear that he has done this before. Flit over to the bags ( _cloth bags, because of course he has his own, lord forbid he use the filthy plastic bags distributed by the store_ ), tug out a couple of cartons of berries, flit over to the refrigerator, slip the cartons inside, just above the apple juice, just below the neat stacks of blood bags. Rinse, recycle, repeat.

Seonghwa is centuries old. And he’s unpacking groceries like a content housewife.

“Why do you need so much food, anyway?” Yunho asks.

Seonghwa gives him a look. “You know why.”

And Yunho does know why. He can picture it, unwelcome, in his mind: San arching beneath Wooyoung, Wooyoung’s fangs sunk deep into the hunter’s throat; Hongjoong panting as Seonghwa pins him to the wall, one hand tangled in Hongjoong’s hair, dark head bent over Hongjoong’s neck.

Yunho shatters those images before they can truly take hold in his mind.

“Are they really here that often?” he asks.

“Often enough.”

Yunho hums. Turns a page.

“How long has Hongjoong had this apprentice?”

The question makes Seonghwa pause. 

“About two years, I think.”

“Hm.” Yunho turns another page. “Do you think this one will die, too?”

Silence.

Yunho glances up from his book to see Seonghwa watching him with a soft frown. He looks disappointed, which makes Yunho’s finger twitch, but there’s sympathy there, too, buried deep. This is why Seonghwa is too good for them all.

“Yunho,” is all Seonghwa says, his voice low and quiet.

“I’m not going to kill him,” Yunho says, because that feels like the right thing to say, and it’s true, mostly. Yunho isn’t sure he’d be able to bear Wooyoung’s misery and blame if Yunho suddenly tore away his new human lover, and Yunho could go at least a few decades without seeing Seonghwa’s true disappointed face again, thank you very much. He had enough of that after his little ( _Yeosang-sanctioned, but don’t tell Seonghwa_ ) murder spree in Europe.

“I know,” says Seonghwa. “That’s not the point.” He sighs quietly, a very human habit that Yunho is half-convinced Seonghwa has only maintained over centuries of life because it so easily conveys his exasperation for his children’s antics. “I know how you feel about Hongjoong. And I’m not invalidating those feelings, you know that, right?”

Yunho shifts in his seat, making a face. He feels rather like a child getting scolded. “Right.”

“I know that he didn’t give you a choice, and that was unfair. And I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Yunho mumbles, a response he’s given a hundred times over, it seems.

“That’s debatable,” Seonghwa says, and before Yunho can argue, adds, “But none of this is San’s fault.”

Yunho stares unseeing at the pages of his book, the words a blur of black on white.

“He’s a good kid, Yunho,” Seonghwa continues. “Hongjoong took him in so he wouldn’t get himself killed on his own. He doesn’t have anyone else. And now Wooyoung loves him, and I’m rather fond of him, too, and—”

“And Hongjoong loves him.” Yunho’s voice comes out more bitter than expected. He doesn’t look at Seonghwa, doesn’t want to see the pity in his eyes.

“Yes.” Seonghwa’s voice is soft. “He does. Just as he loves you.”

Yunho continues to stare at his book for a moment, keeping unnaturally still in the way only vampires can, and then he slaps the book shut, tosses it onto the table, and gets to his feet, heading for the stairs and his room.

“You can always just say hi, you know,” Seonghwa calls after him. “I know Hongjoong would be happy to see you.”

Yunho doesn’t quite slam his bedroom door behind him, but it’s still loud enough to sting.

*

There’s a knock on the front door, and a gentle call: “Hello?”

Yunho glances up from his inelegant slump on the sofa, a crossword app still open on his phone.

“It’s open,” he calls. He’s the only one home, and he knows he should probably be a little more cautious, but what the hell, it’s late in the night and he’s a vampire and he can probably handle anyone who comes through the door, especially if they’re polite enough to knock first.

He hears the front door click open, and then Choi San steps into the room, clad in jeans and a black hooded sweatshirt. He looks a bit damp; it must be raining.

Yunho sits up straight on the couch, setting his phone aside, feeling strangely wary.

“Oh.” San looks surprised to see him. He slips his hood off, ruffles his hair with one hand. Yunho can smell him from the couch, the warm, human scent of him. It’s a common scent in this house, now. Yunho’s become accustomed to it in the few months he’s been staying here, but having him right here, smelling so alive—it’s a bit distracting. “Yunho-ssi. I, ah… I didn’t know you’d be here. Is Wooyoung back yet?”

“No, he’s still out with Seonghwa,” Yunho says. “He said he wanted to feed before you got here.”

San’s brow furrows. “Oh,” he says, and then, so quiet that Yunho might have missed it if not for his vampire senses, “He doesn’t have to do that.”

Yunho makes note of the small ring of scars on San’s neck, neat and pale and barely visible. Yunho wonders how often Wooyoung leaves those scars. He wonders how fresh they are.

“You worry about him,” Yunho says. 

San meets his gaze, eyes sharp and guarded. 

“Hongjoong and I aren’t the only hunters in the area anymore,” he says. “And if feeding from me is enough to keep a target off of Wooyoung’s back, then…” San shrugs. “It seems like a small enough price to pay.”

“You know the clubs they go to are registered feeding dens, right?”

“I know,” San says. “But you never know when someone who is willing enough while drunk might end up feeling regretful and litigious the next day.”

Yunho watches him, this young human who has somehow become so important to two of the most important people in Yunho’s life. ( _Potentially three, but that’s only on the days when Yunho is feeling particularly maudlin about a certain hunter._ ) 

“They’ve survived hundreds of years without your concern,” Yunho says, keeping his voice carefully low. “And they’ll survive hundreds more once you’re gone.”

San barely flinches at that, but Yunho does catch the quick stutter of his heart, the way his eyelids flicker.

“Yes, well.” San smiles, and it’s so sad and beautiful that Yunho almost has to look away. “They can enjoy my concern for as long as I’m able to give it, then.”

An awkward silence descends. San is the first to look away, glancing down at his own phone, and Yunho is irritated that he can’t tell whether that feels like a victory.

“Choi San,” he says. 

San lifts his head, eyes wide.

“You know who I am, don’t you?” Yunho says. Wooyoung introduced them, months ago, but he said nothing about Yunho being Hongjoong’s dead apprentice, and Yunho never asked whether that was explained to Hongjoong’s perfect new apprentice. 

His question is answered as soon as San’s shoulders droop, his brows drawing together and the corners of his lips turning down.

“I do,” San whispers. “... I’m sorry.”

Terribly, he looks like he means it.

Yunho gets to his feet, and feels darkly, childishly gratified when San flinches back slightly. He passes just behind San as he leaves the room, and his hand brushes the back of the hunter’s neck in the barest touch, long nails just barely grazing skin, so light that San doesn’t even react.

For himself— _just_ for himself, because he’s ashamed even as the thought flashes through his mind—Yunho pictures, for a moment, his nails being sharper, his fingers pressing harder, slicing through delicate skin like a knife through butter, catching veins, pouring warm blood onto pale skin, each heartbeat pulsing out more, and more, and _more_ , until— 

Yunho steps away, draws his hand back, looks deliberately away from San’s neck.

“They’ll be home soon,” he says, heading for the stairs. “Make yourself comfortable.”

“Thank you, Yunho-ssi.” San’s voice is quiet.

Yunho pauses, wavering, his heart sitting dead and heavy in his chest, and then adds, because it’s true and he feels like he should offer _something_ , “Wooyoung will be glad to see you.”

Yunho can still smell San even as he climbs the stairs. Can still hear his steady heartbeat, the breath in his lungs, the twitch of muscles and the soft sweep of hair over his skin.

Yunho’s last thought before he closes himself into is room is that Choi San is so very, very human.

_Maybe this one will die, too._

*

Yunho is still young. 

He’s been a vampire for less than a decade, which is the blink of an eye in the lifetime of many vampires he’s met. He knows this. He accepts it. He’s fine with Yeosang jokingly referring to him as their “baby.” He’s fine with Wooyoung hollering “Yunho-ya!” despite the fact that Yunho was turned when he was a full two years older than Wooyoung was. And he’s fine with Seonghwa mothering him a bit too much sometimes, always asking whether he’s fed, like he’s still a newborn, still in danger of being overcome by sudden uncontrollable bloodlust.

So Yunho understands that he’s young, and he knows that he is no match for a good number of the vampires who haunt their city, but he also knows that his family has prepared him well for his long, undead life. He knows how to fight. He knows how to remain off the radar of most hunters.

And he knows the best way to kill other vampires.

It’s early enough on a Saturday morning that it could still be called late. The sky is dark, and Yunho has just fed, the new blood settling warm in his veins, making his cheeks feel flushed. He feels light, full, almost giddy.

And then he hears a familiar laugh.

Yunho’s dead heart lurches in his chest. He slips automatically into the shadows of a nearby doorway and watches the sidewalk across the street, waiting.

They’re walking together, casually. Hongjoong’s hands are shoved into the pockets of his bomber jacket, and as Yunho watches, he throws his head back in another laugh, eyes crinkling. His apprentice— _San_ , Yunho’s mind corrects, in Wooyoung’s fond voice, because he should use his name—laughs along with him, a bright cackle of a laugh that Yunho wouldn’t have expected from such a striking face. San’s hair is longer than Yunho remembers seeing it last, soft dark locks falling prettily into his eyes, and Yunho grudgingly admits ( _if only to himself_ ) that he might be starting to understand Wooyoung’s infatuation.

Hongjoong’s hair is dyed light again, almost blindingly white, tugged back into a messy bun that Yunho knows is meant to look effortless.

“You have to look tempting, Yunho-ya,” Hongjoong used to say with a cheeky grin, whenever they’d go out on patrol together. “If you don’t look tempting, you won’t bait any vampires stupid enough to try you out.”

And they’re clearly bait tonight, these two young men, seemingly out for a casual stroll in the dark hours of the morning. San’s shirt is unbuttoned just enough to temptingly display his collarbones, and Hongjoong’s leather pants cling to his hips and thighs so deliberately that even Yunho has to make himself look away.

They’re bait, and it’s working.

Yunho senses the vampires before he sees them. There are two of them, flitting through the shadows, trailing just far enough behind the hunters to not be noticed.

But Yunho is watching for it, so he sees the barely there tension in Hongjoong’s shoulders, the way San tosses his hair so that he’s able to flick a brief, nigh unnoticeable glance over his shoulder. They’re good. Of course they are. It’s _Hongjoong_. And the vampires trailing them have no idea.

Yunho watches them walk the block, his right hand fidgeting. He shouldn’t care. He should feel nothing. Hongjoong is an extremely capable hunter, and from what Yunho has heard, grudgingly, his apprentice is nearly as good. They know they’re being followed. They’re ready for the attack.

They’ll be fine.

And Yunho shouldn’t care, anyway, he shouldn’t _care_. If anything, he should be hoping for the vampires to catch them off guard, to distract Hongjoong, to separate him from his pretty apprentice, rip the younger man away, gouge into that exposed throat and choke off his screams and _tear_ — 

Yunho shudders, shoves those thoughts ( _memories?_ ) away.

He doesn’t care. 

He shouldn’t _care_.

And yet… 

Yunho glares at the trailing vampires, loathing them, their idiocy ( _how can they not notice that they’re trailing two of the best hunters in the city?_ ), their clear bloodlust. They’re older than Yunho is, but it can’t be by much. And suddenly, terrifyingly, he is so _angry_.

He can take them.

He presses his lips together, and, before he can think any better of it, darts out of the doorway.

The first vampire he catches from behind, one hand clamped over the vampire’s mouth, the other reaching around its shoulders. His grip tightens, twists, and with a muffled, sickening _crack_ , the vampire’s neck breaks. Yunho drops the corpse to deal with the vampire’s companion. The vampire lunges for him, fangs bared in fury. Yunho sidesteps and manages to hook an elbow around the vampire’s neck. He pulls tight, throttling the vampire, preventing it from crying out, and then he shoves his hand into the vampire’s back, wincing as his skin scrapes against shattered ribs, and seizes what he approximates is probably the vampire’s heart. He gouges his fingers in, twists his hand, then rips it free, taking stale black blood and viscera with him. Wrinkling his nose in disgust, he drops the heart ( _and possibly some lung?_ ) and the dead vampire onto the ground.

The whole ordeal takes about fifteen seconds.

“Shit,” Yunho mutters. He hazards a glance at the corner where Hongjoong and San disappeared, then figures, _fuck it_ , and slips into the shadows of a nearby alleyway, figuring someone else can deal with the corpses.

Yunho’s skin feels electric. If his heart could beat, it would be racing. There is cold gore on his hands, beneath his fingernails, the rank stench of dead blood on his coat, his shirt, his skin. He feels like a newborn again, ravenous, savage, desperate to pummel away his rage with violence, his every nerve screaming for him to rend flesh, to drink deep, to _kill_ — 

Seonghwa’s face flashes through his mind. Yunho squeezes his eyes shut, grits his teeth, fangs out and heavy in his gums.

That isn’t him anymore. He’s no longer a newborn. He is in control, he _has to be_.

It only takes a minute or so for Hongjoong and San to realize they’re no longer being followed; Yunho catches snatches of conversation as they retrace their steps, coming closer. Yunho sinks deeper into his hiding place in the shadows. He’s not entirely sure why he waits, honestly, but that’s a question he’d rather not delve into just now.

“—definitely following us, right?” That’s San, his voice hushed.

“I thought so.” Yunho clenches his bloodied hands into fists; he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to hearing Hongjoong’s voice again, even after all these years. It doesn’t quite help to quell the fury boiling low in his gut. “They were trailing us for a few blocks, at least, I— _jesus christ._ ”

Ah. They found the corpses.

“What the hell happened?” San asks, sounding horrified. “This couldn’t have been a hunter, not with…” He trails off, obviously rattled.

Yunho can just barely see them, San with his arms crossed tightly across his chest, Hongjoong crouching over the mutilated corpse of the second vampire. He’s not looking at the body, though; he’s looking at the shadows, eyes sharp. Yunho wills him not to look this way, even though he knows he’s well hidden.

“No,” Hongjoong continues, “this looks like the handiwork of another vampire.”

“You think they had a grudge or something?” San says. He looks a bit impressed as he surveys the damage; Yunho tries not to let himself feel too satisfied by that.

“Or something.” Hongjoong gets to his feet with a sigh. “Well… we can either go back to the den and try again, or we can call it a night. What do you wanna do?”

San fishes his cell phone out of his back pocket, taps the screen, illuminating his face in a cool blue glow. “It’s already past three. We lost our prime window.”

“Let’s just head back, then.” 

“Should we call Seonghwa-hyung? I know he’s not a fan of leaving corpses just… you know.” San waves a hand at the two dead vampires. “Strewn about. And he’ll want to know if vampires are killing other vampires.”

_Seonghwa-hyung._

Yunho frowns at that; since when did Choi San refer to Seonghwa as “hyung”?

“Yeah, I’ll give him a call while we walk back.” Hongjoong glances around again, still looking suspicious. “It’s weird that they’d just leave the bodies here. Usually they’ll at least make an effort to cover it up.”

“Maybe they were in a rush?”

“Maybe,” Hongjoong says, but he doesn’t sound convinced.

“Let’s head home while you ponder, hyung,” San says with a small, nervous smile, and Yunho notes again, with a burn of irritation this time, that the new apprentice does, unfortunately, seem easy to love. 

It doesn’t make Yunho feel any better.

They start to move away, but just before they’re out of view, Hongjoong pauses to glance over his shoulder one more time, and looks straight into the shadows where Yunho is hiding for the smallest of moments.

Yunho watches them walk away until they’re out of sight.

*

It comes in the form of a phone call, surprisingly.

And Yunho answers, because he is an idiot.

“Hello?” he says, curious; unknown numbers rarely call in the darkest hours of the morning, when the whole mortal world is asleep.

“ _You answered._ ”

Yunho goes still. 

“ _Please don’t hang up_ ,” Hongjoong adds in a rush, sounding a bit breathless. “ _I got your number from Seonghwa, and I’m sorry I had to go behind your back for it, but I wanted to talk to you. Is that… is that okay?_ ”

 _No_ , Yunho wants to say. _No, it’s not okay, because you let me die, and then you_ didn’t _let me die, and then you left me with vampires and didn’t fight me when I swore I never wanted to see you again, and you never came looking for me, and then you_ replaced _me, and you don’t even seem to_ — 

“Fine,” Yunho says.

“ _Oh._ ” Hongjoong sounds surprised, which Yunho supposes is fair. “ _Okay, I—thank you. How—how are you?_ ”

“Currently? A little hungry.”

Yunho hears the way Hongjoong’s breath stutters slightly, the way he tries not to show it.

“ _Oh, ah, you… haven’t you fed yet tonight? It’s late._ ”

“I fed yesterday,” Yunho says. “I’ll be fine with just blood bags until tomorrow.”

The line is silent for a moment, and then Hongjoong inhales, shakily.

“ _That was you, that night, wasn’t it?_ ” he says. “ _The night San and I found those dead vampires._ ”

Yunho considers denying it, briefly, and then decides to just remain silent. It’s admission enough.

“ _Why’d you do that?_ ” Hongjoong asks. “ _I know you don’t care about me, and with San there—_ ”

“I care,” Yunho says, before he can even register that he’s spoken. He blinks then, the startled silence heavy between the two of them.

“ _Yunho—_ ”

“Seonghwa would be sad if you died,” Yunho says quickly, his hand tight around the phone. “And Wooyoung would be inconsolable without his San, you know how he gets. Did you pick your new apprentice purposefully as someone who could distract him? Because if so, you did a fantastic—”

“ _I’m sorry._ ”

The words are quiet, but they crack through Yunho’s rambling like a gunshot on glass.

“ _I’m sorry, Yunho. I’m so sorry. I know I’ve told you that before, and I know you don’t like to hear it, and you don’t have to forgive me, but… I’m sorry. And I’m glad that you still care, because I care, too, okay? And I’ve… I miss you. I’m sorry._ ”

Yunho stares at the wall of his room, the winged shadows cast by the lamp in the corner. 

“Goodnight, Hongjoong,” he says, and he barely catches a startled “ _Goodnight_ ” in return as he pulls the phone down from his ear and presses end. He turns it off, after that, and tosses it onto the floor.

_I miss you._

Yunho slumps back onto his bed. He closes his eyes, and tries to think about anything except the encroaching, oft-remembered sensation of claw-like fingers digging into his arms, wrenching him away from his partner; the wet crack of his skull against brick; the white-hot sear of fangs ripping into his throat; the way Hongjoong’s voice broke as he screamed.

_I’m so sorry._

Yunho slings an arm over his eyes. He can feel the bloodlust rising again, like a gorge in the back of his throat, rage simmering just beneath the surface of his skin. He remembers Seonghwa telling him it was to be expected ( _“You’ll carry the violence of your death for years, but you can learn to control it, as I did.”_ ), giving him ways to soothe it, to smother the burn.

_I’m sorry, Yunho._

Yunho breathes in, even though the air does nothing in his dead lungs. He breathes in, and holds it there, and waits for the heat to subside.

_I miss you._

Breathes out, long and slow, counts to ten, counts longer, it’s fine, he doesn’t really need the next breath, anyway.

_I’m so sorry._

Breathe in.

_I miss you._

Breathe out.

_I’m so sorry._

Breathe in.

_I miss you._

Silence.

*

**Author's Note:**

> find me on twitter, if you like~ ♡
> 
> [main account](https://twitter.com/aintitnifty) | [writing account](https://twitter.com/magnificentbirb)


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